


young fit in a wildfire

by sugarbug



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarbug/pseuds/sugarbug
Summary: "He grabs one of the lunches Tsutomu meticulously prepares each weekend then searches the kitchen for his house keys. After he’s packed his bag, he grabs his jacket and heads out for the day.And, okay, maybe it’s not technically his jacket, but Kenjirou and Tsutomu share just about everything at this point. It’s not a big deal.Even so, when he gets to work, he tucks it in the far corner of the break room, careful that it won’t get upset by anyone else’s belongings."
Relationships: Goshiki Tsutomu/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30
Collections: Goshira Fanweek 2020





	young fit in a wildfire

**Author's Note:**

> this was actually a c//mmissi//n (ao3 snipes works with that word if i remember correctly) for the ever-lovely dreemy that i held hostage from the rest of the world in order to post for goshira week 😐 anyways GAY PEOPLE

It starts out like most of Kenjirou’s days—he wakes up at the absolutely horrific hour of 5:00 AM. If he listens carefully, he can still hear Tsutomu’s soft snores as he brushes his teeth. He’ll be up in an hour, but Kenjirou will already be gone by then.

Kenjirou’s morning routine really kicks into gear after he’s brewed his first cup of coffee. He dumps the rest of it into a thermos to take with him. He doesn’t bother making anything fancy for breakfast. He  _ does _ take a few minutes to slice up fruit for Tsutomu because Kenjirou is a  _ nice _ and  _ thoughtful _ roommate ( _ “Boyfriend, you mean,” _ Tsutomu’s voice teases in his head).

He grabs one of the lunches Tsutomu meticulously prepares each weekend then searches the kitchen for his house keys. After he’s packed his bag, he grabs his jacket and heads out for the day.

And, okay, maybe it’s not  _ technically _ his jacket, but Kenjirou and Tsutomu share just about everything at this point. It’s not a big deal.

Even so, when he gets to work, he tucks it in the far corner of the break room, careful that it won’t get upset by anyone else’s belongings.

* * *

Kenjirou is lucky if he can make anything more complex than noodles, and that’s on a  _ good _ day. Honestly, one of the pros of moving in with Tsutomu was that he no longer had to live off takeout and microwaveable meals.

He thinks about this as he eats his lunch.

It’s nothing crazy—just a baked sweet potato and a few fish cakes. Stil, the flavors remind him of Sundays spent meal-prepping. Or, rather, Sundays spent trying to dice vegetables and shape rice in an attempt to help  _ Tsutomu _ meal-prep.

_ “How did you live without me?” _ Tsutomu has asked on more than one occasion, too playful and confident for his own good. It’s all in good fun, but Kenjirou honestly  _ doesn’t _ know. He’s grown too used to calloused hands draping blankets around him as he studies, coconut-scented hair tickling his nose as he falls asleep, soft smiles that can improve just about any and every bad day the universe may throw his way.

He shoves the thoughts to the back of his mind. It’s fruitless though, really, because he’s spending his lunch break texting Tsutomu anyways. 

The weather is getting chilly, but he’d rather eat outside than listen to another one of his coworker’s long-winded rants in the breakroom. Around him, the autumn air nips at his neck, and he tugs the light green track jacket tighter around his shoulders.

* * *

He’s halfway through the walk from the hospital to the train station when Taichi facetimes him.

“Hey,” Taichi says before Kenjirou has even managed to put his earbuds in all the way.

Kenjirou mumbles some kind of greeting, which Taichi takes as the go-ahead to tell a story about the study group he’d been forced into joining. Kenjirou is only half-listening—it’d been a pretty tiring day, and he still has a pile and a half of paperwork to parse through when he gets home.

“Are you even paying attention?” Taichi asks after a few minutes.

“No,” Kenjirou answers honestly. He takes the steps up to the train station two at a time and draws his shoulders up to his ears in an attempt to ward off the drafty air that tosses his bangs back and forth.

Taichi clicks his tongue. Then he squints and leans closer to his phone.

“Are you wearing ‘Tomu’s team jacket?”

“None of your business,” Kenjirou answers, turning his head in an attempt to hide any color that might be filling his cheeks.

“Wow,” Taichi says, deadpan as always, but Kenjirou has long since learned to recognize the underlying tones behind his deliveries.

“Shut up,” Kenjirou snaps. “Don’t you have class soon or something?”

Taichi offers a rare half-smile before bidding him farewell right as Kenjirou’s train arrives. 

He shuffles inside, pulling his messenger bag onto his lap as he sinks into a seat. He tugs at the too-long sleeves of the jacket. Stupid Tsutomu with his stupid long arms and wide shoulders and larger-than-life smiles.

Kenjirou leans his forehead against the window and thinks about home.

* * *

When he reaches his building, the sun has long since gone down. He is eager to get inside his apartment and take his contacts out, change into warmer clothes, maybe make a hot cup of tea.

He fishes around in his pocket for his keys, the door clicking open when he finally finds them. He’s met with the sound of a sizzling pan and the warm smell of spices.

“Home,” he calls out as he toes his shoes off at the door. He hears the soft pitter-patter of footsteps coming from the kitchen.

“Hey!” Tsutomu slides in on his socks, arms already reaching out for Kenjirou. Kenjirou (begrudgingly, he tries to tell himself) allows himself to be swept up into his embrace, the chills he’d been fighting off his entire commute home immediately disappearing.

“Oh! I thought I’d left this somewhere in the locker room,” Tsutomu says, giving one of the jacket sleeves a gentle tug as he smushes his cheek farther into Kenjirou’s hair.

“Sorry, I was just in a hurry this morning,” Kenjirou begins, but Tsutomu cuts him off before he can finish his half-hearted excuse.

“It’s okay!” Tsutomu pulls away to give Kenjirou a proper look. He pulls his hands up from Kenjirou’s back and loops them around his neck instead. “Weren’t you cold though?”

Kenjirou stares right back at Tsutomu, thinks about the way he has the absolute  _ nerve _ to care about Kenjirou’s well-being. It’s sickening, honestly, how someone could make Kenjirou feel so overwhelmingly  _ fond. _

He wouldn’t mind battling the brisk fall winds if it meant he could bring a little piece of Tsutomu and his ever-present glow with him wherever he went, though.

“Nah,” Kenjirou lies. He fights the urge to cup Tsutomu’s cheeks in his hands, run his thumb across the freckles on the bridge of his nose, to be overly sentimental. 

He settles instead for the tenderest words he can manage, an attempt at nonchalance. 

“Besides, I’m warm now, aren’t I?”

**Author's Note:**

> if u want to give me ur thoughts on this or just tell me about ur day, feel free to drop a comment <33


End file.
